Mind Funk
by Mr. Fishy
Summary: You remind me of a Hollywood tragedy. Stories found behind the pictures. ONESHOT


High heels feel good tonight, very sexy, very seventeen

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own this television series; if I did I would be sipping an ice cool drink lounging at a corner café in France. Am I in France? No, I'm sitting at home in my chair watching the fan rotate. I do not own it.

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

High heels feel good tonight, very sexy, very seventeen. With toes and finger nails painted a hearty harlot red and a skin tight black dress to match I feel ready to hit the town- let it dribble its hot wet steam over my freshly primped blond hair and creamy milk skin.

The city is alive, beating to the rhythm, like sex, like the thudding noise of a bedpost to the wall- hard and heavy. The street corner I'm walking around bends into the entrance of my favorite club of the week, _Exes_. The line is long tonight, but I've got connections. Flashing a dazzling white smile to the horny pimply security guards they open their doors wide for me, Hannah Montana.

No identification is needed people know my age, they known my life story. At fifteen I took the world by storm and now, twenty-seven, I'm still climbing the charts still gaining their attention- turning heads every way I strut.

The club has a decent crowd. The atmosphere is dark, cool, a nice contrast to the sticky, humid summer weather of LA. I feel the music dig deep under my skin, it crawls into my system, I have to dance. Blowing kisses to each lonely boy at the bar, I slide by onto the dance floor- their gazes locked.

I must admit, I like the attention. Miley wouldn't approve, she'd blush and turn away but I'm not Miley tonight. I swing my body out from side to side with my arms raised and fake hair falling over my face. I've got a buzz, another kind of high not from the drugs or drinks. I close my eyes, feel it, I want to _feel _it.

"Hey…" A deep voice finds me, touches my arm, "Hey, Hannah, you wanna dance with me?"

"Aw, cute." I giggle while running a long fingernail down his cheek. The man is a dark figure, a faceless shadow I let wrap his arms around me and press his front against my back. He twirls me, I laugh, letting my mind haze over- become nothing, become air, nothing exists but the beat, the feel of this stranger's large rough hands running up and down my body.

"Let's get outta here, Hannah, baby…" He hisses huskily to me, then licking the inside of my ear.

"Lead the way, handsome."

We walk to the back room of the club. My gorgeous stranger high fives a few of the security guards before we settle onto a couch with a group of people snorting my favorite white substance.

We kiss, my shadow and me, his teeth are biting me, his tongue tastes like hot liquid shot forcefully to the back of your throat- it burns, sizzles. I lean my face down into the table of white powder and then…

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, get up!"

With a blurred vision I come to- mouth dry like sandpaper, head fried almost glossed over into another place and time.

"I'm not sure how much more of this I can take, Miley."

I sit up, I'm in my bed back in my house and the sun is burning into my sore eyes. Quickly I wipe my mouth, lipstick smears. Lilly is pacing back and forth, her hand on her forehead and the other on her hip as she looks frazzled and down right pissed off.

"Hey," I laugh rubbing my eyes, voice cracking over the 'e.'

"Oh, don't you dare, 'heeey' me." Lilly snaps fuming at the mouth as she turns to face me. "You missed another meeting this morning, not to mention," Lilly picks up the newspaper off the floor and shoves it into my face, "Yet another slut story on Hannah, fuck, Miley, do you _want_ your career to go down the toilet?"

I flip through the story, huh look at that- my stranger's name was Brad Parker. There's a picture of us dancing and another taken of us at the table getting high. I throw the paper down and smile up at Lilly. She got another hair cut, not too short but its enough to make me miss her longer style. Her outfit today is simple, black pants suit which screams, "I'M BORING AS HELL AND HAVEN'T BEEN LAID IN MONTHS!"

"What are you laughing at?" Lilly shrieks flinging her arms out, "Nothing is funny, Miley, you're killing yourself!"

"Oh, come on, Lilly sweetie, it's just a little fun and besides you're my manager you go to the boring meetings, I sing, remember? I sing and that's it." I say pulling the covers back and slowly standing up, but I start to loose my balance.

"Whoa there," Lilly says jumping over to catch me, "Just rest, okay popstar?" She says, still holding me tight and just like that Lilly is Lilly again. We share another one of our 'looks.' Then Lilly seems to crash back into reality and frowns setting me onto the bed. "I can't keep picking you up every night like this, stoned, totally baked, whatever you want to call it, Miley," She cups my cheek, "Stop this, just stop."

"Lilly, no, you stop," I recoil, pushing myself back from her soft touch. Lilly has to get it through her head- we are over! We were together, for a short time and that was it! No more, I can't take it.

She's been in love with me for so long, it's the only reason she stays. Lilly has that mind set, thinking I'll become who I was be the same caring and loving girl she knew. But I can't get back there- that world is so far gone I can't even reach out.

Lilly laughs, bitterly- its not pretty, not the Lilly laugh I grew accustom too in my younger years. Lilly has changed, just like all of us. Her eyes, cold stone walls of blue, I wish she would just leave me be. Let the great Hannah Montana fade away, let the meek Miley Stewart slowly decay because I'm so far gone.

I let Lilly walk away, I do admit, we might be over but that doesn't mean I can't admire her backside… feeling my self pity party begin to end I stand and start getting ready for the day to come.

Two public appearances as sweet Hannah, one photo shot, and a coffee date with Freddy, my producer, to persuade him to work on my newest album later, I'm spread out on my couch brain dead. The Hannah mansion is comfortable, decent with service and the right amount of privacy but also with a small window of opportunity for any rat faced photographer to snap pictures when I'm lounging by my pool.

I rub the back of my neck and listen to the sound of Lilly's shoes walking down the stairs. I hear her set a suitcase down on the marble flooring and I smile, sitting up. "Hey there, Lilly girl…" I say.

"Miley," Lilly breathes out forcefully, not quite looking me in the eyes as she explains, "I think it's time for me to go. I can't stay with you, like this."

I believe this is the fifth time she's tried to leave me, always the same reason. "Aw, come on Lilly, you don't mean it." I tell her standing up and slowly walking to her in long strides. I see her body stiffen, I'm wearing her favorite loose yellow dress with a plunging neckline.

Lilly gulps and folds her arms over her chest, "Miley, you may not give a shit about your health but I do… and if you're not willing to let me help, then I will _not _sit back and watch you destroy everything that you've worked so hard for…"

"Come now," I whisper placing my hand on her shoulder, "You won't leave." I use my index finger to stroke the back of her ear.

I watch, with great amusement, as Lilly's breath gets caught in her chest- she freezes and I continue to stroke, to woe her. "Lilly…" I say leaning in and blowing on her neck, letting my lips stay just above her hot skin, not yet touching, just teasing her.

"Stop it, please, Miley… do you have any idea how much you h-hurt me?" Her voice breaks as she turns from me.

I'm a little taken back; she usually gives in by aggressively grabbing me and taking advantage of me on whatever surface she can find. That makes her stay, the sex, the only physically touch I provide. But today she is crying, silently. I watch her shoulders shake and arms wrap tighter around herself.

I feel like screaming. "This is _so_ stupid!" I shout, stomping my foot, "Hurting _you_? Lilly, what do you want from me? I'm still alive I'm still here!"

"No, you're not!" She cries, whipping around on her heel, with flushed cheeks and red puffy eyes, she sniffles and continues, "You died, Miley, something inside of you died the day they did!"

"SHUT-UP!" My voice reaches a greater height with the high elaborate ceilings, my yell echoes almost hauntingly through all the rooms, "You," I say glaring and pointing my finger at her, "You don't utter a word… not one…"

"Miley, please, I l-love you, so much, let me help… let me make it better." Lilly begs me, walking closer with her hands empty and open, ready for me.

"No, Lilly."

She cringes, face scrunched up in pure heart wrenching pain that stings me- the same look she gave me at the funeral, three years ago. I broke it off, our relationship, that day standing in the rain looking down at my father and brother's coffin. We'd been together for one year before the accident that took the last of my family away- put them in the ground.

"No, is not the right answer." Lilly snaps, grabbing both of my wrists and pulling me into her arms, into her soft body.

"Let me go!" I scream into her shoulder trying to use my hands to push her off, "You let me go!"

It doesn't matter, the harder I cry and thrash my arms the harder she pulls me into her. I feel her body shaking, her tears soaking my bare shoulder from where the sundress strap has fallen. We are shaking into each other and I feel everything, the weight of the world I have fought off with drugs, alcohol, and sex, falling and crushing over my chest. My lungs are heaving, I feel like throwing up.

Lilly somehow maneuvers us to sitting on the marble floor, our childish wails and cries echoing up into the ceiling and ringing in our ears. I suck in a breath shakily then breathe in her smell of cinnamon and vanilla, her own scent, the one I have always known- it hasn't changed.

I remember the first time I was ever this close to her breathing her in; it was the first time we made love in her bedroom late one Sunday night. The windows were open letting in the summer breeze. I remember, kissing her was like melting, like dissolving. I want to know that feeling again, someday.

The Lilly here and now strokes my hair and listening to me mumble like a child into her neck. She says my name over and over, softly, gently, like a mother. Mother Lilly. She places a warm hand to my back and rubs up and down up and down.

I cry harder. More tears, the pain keeps crashing in and out like tides. I break apart sharply, suddenly. Lilly looks me right in the eye and I look back. "Don't leave," I whisper, "Not yet, I'm not ready to give up."

She smiles a pretty Lilly smile and says, "Okay."

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

**Author's Note: **I really wanted to write Miley in a completely different light. I know I have a million over stories to be writing for and I've left you fateful readers for so long but I don't have any excuses this time. I'm sorry, hope that's enough. Leave your thoughts.


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